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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26820508">Balladeer</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaMandCheezIts/pseuds/HaMandCheezIts'>HaMandCheezIts</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Back to the Future (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Billy Joel - Musician, Billy the Kid - Song, Campfires, Camping, Colt gun, Delorean, Gen, Guns, Inspired by Music, Movie: Back to the Future Part III, Music, Old West, Short One Shot, Song Lyrics, Steal vs. Borrow, Steam Locomotive, Vignette, gunfight, gunslinger, town festival</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:08:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,015</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26820508</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaMandCheezIts/pseuds/HaMandCheezIts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A musician at heart, Marty McFly can’t help but think of his life – and the lives of his friends – in lyric form.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Emmett "Doc" Brown &amp; Marty McFly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Balladeer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story (vignette) has its basis in a specific scene from <em>Back to the Future III:</em> when Marty is walking in town with the gun and holster strapped to his hip, and the townspeople are greeting him and (mostly) wishing him well. When the camera focuses on Marty’s boots and then pans up to the gun and further to Marty’s time-accurate clothes, in my head I always hear the opening music/sounds of the decidedly western-themed tune “The Ballad of Billy the Kid” (1972) by Billy Joel. And when you examine some of the song’s lyrics, they just “fit” BTTF III.</p>
<p><strong>Disclaimer:</strong> I do not own <em>Back to the Future,</em> Marty McFly (or any of the McFly family members), Doctor Emmett L. Brown, Clara Clayton Brown, Jennifer Parker, Buford "Mad Dog" Tannen, or any other related characters.</p>
<p>I am writing for fun and feedback, not for profit.</p>
<p>-ck</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong><em>NOTE:</em> The lyrics in this story (shown in blockquote italics) are taken from the 1972 song "The Ballad of Billy the Kid" by Billy Joel. Some of the lyrics are verbatim, while others are slightly or noticeably adjusted.</strong>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <strong>Sunday, September 6th, 1885</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>8:38 P.M.</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Hill Valley, California</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He wasn’t exactly sure when the song had imbedded itself into his consciousness. Maybe when he and Doc had found the older man's 1885 gravestone (after Marty had gotten over his initial heart-pounding, trembling shock, of course). But it could have been earlier in the day. After all, when Doc had twisted the detonator connected to the dynamite, they had hidden behind tombstones in another part of the small cemetery, in order to protect themselves from the rocks and dirt and random debris that had rained down from the resulting explosion. So he had been singing the song – in his head, at least – when they had been walking through the abandoned mine, searching for the X-marked spot (or <em>ELB-</em>marked) spot that indicated the hiding place of the time machine.</p>
<p>But the tune's presence could have been detectable even before that. . . Possibly while they'd been in the garage the previous morning, when Doc had been reading aloud the letter his 66-year-old self had written 70 years ago (and Marty, even though he’d received delivery of the letter, still couldn’t quite grasp that). Hell, it could’ve been when Marty himself had first read the complete letter, sitting cross-legged on the floor of Doc’s den while the scientist snoozed on the couch behind him. As soon as the teen's eyes had settled on the words “Boot Hill Cemetery. . . “</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>And he never had a sweetheart<br/>
But he finally found a home<br/>
Underneath the boot hill grave that bears his name.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>It had been almost prophetic, in a sense. The only reason that the line from “The Ballad of Billy the Kid” had popped into his head was because of the cemetery’s name, the one Doc had mentioned in his letter. <em>“</em><em>. . .I have buried the DeLorean in the abandoned Delgado mine, adjacent to the old Boot Hill Cemetery," </em> he had written. And so the song had erupted in Marty’s brain - well before he had known that the “boot hill grave” was Doc’s.</p>
<p>The persistent melody had traveled back with him to 1885. But the lyric choice began to shift – as did the name of the subject. “Marty” now replaced “Billy.”</p>
<p>After his unintentional insult to Buford Tannen, for which he almost paid with his life (if Doc and his sharp-shooting hadn’t intervened):</p>

<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Well one cold morn a gang did capture Marty</em><br/>
<em>And Mad Dog said "String 'im up for what he did!"</em><br/>
<em>And the cowboys and their kin / like the sea, came pourin' in / to watch the hangin' of Marty the Kid.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>At the town festival, when the gun salesman (who had called him "sonny-boy,” causing Marty to inwardly grimace at the probably time-appropriate but personally hated nickname) had bid him try his hand at a Colt pistol, and had accused Marty of being afraid or a baby when he’d demurred (and if anything was worse than being called “sonny-boy,” it was being called a <em>baby).</em> After the initial wild shot, Marty had impressed the salesman and nearby Hill Valley-ites with his shooting prowess. He’d also altered that pertinent lyric a tad:</p>

<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>In the pocket of his vest, a Colt he hid.<br/>
And his age and his size took the townsfolk by surprise<br/>
And word spread of Marty the Kid.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>And the word had spread, once he’d been goaded by Buford’s name-calling and had agreed to a face him in an early-morning duel in two days. Marty had been congratulated, revered, given a free gun, given a cigar. . . He was also offered a new suit, although he’d soon found out that <em>that</em> proposal hadn’t exactly been positive. Especially when Doc had theorized that the nearby gravestone (which still existed in the photograph, the name blank but the dates remaining), might now be intended for <em>him.</em></p>
<p>Now Marty couldn’t decide on the recipient of the lyric that had been in his head for days.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>And he never had a sweetheart<br/>
But he finally found a home<br/>
Underneath the boot hill grave that bears his name.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Did it need to be either of them? They had sweethearts - he had Jennifer, and Doc had declared his love for Clara. (The timing of that new relationship was impracticable, but there was no denying that the scientist and the teacher were smitten with each other. Marty had spoken of "lightning-strike" love at first sight; Doc and Clara easily proved the theory.) As for the time travelers having homes. . .  They were both 100 years out of their time. Doc had been willing to live the rest of his life in the Old West, but Marty was having none of that. He was a product and a resident of the 1980s, entrenched into that decade much more so than Doc. Marty was going back to the future come hell or high water.</p>
<p>Although maybe he should be less concerned with damnation and floods and more concerned about a murderous gunslinger and a plan to steal <em>(borrow)</em> a steam locomotive.</p>
<p>After he and Doc had transferred the refitted DeLorean onto the train tracks, they’d set up a hasty campsite and had eaten a quick, tasteless supper. Then, barely noticing Doc’s grim countenance, Marty had lain down to run lyrics through his head, softly humming.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>In a town known as Hill Valley, California</em><br/>
<em>Rode a boy on a skateboard, light as air.</em><br/>
<em>And his ability to rhyme</em><br/>
<em>Made him a legend in his time</em><br/>
<em>East and West of the Courthouse Square.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>“Eh, not my best, but I’ll work on it when we get back to 1985,” Marty mumbled to himself, then snuggled into his poncho and turned over in his bedroll, edging closer to the heat of the campfire.</p>
<p>He was asleep soon after, and never heard Doc as he left the campsite, to climb upon his horse and urge it in the direction of the schoolmarm's cabin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> <strong>END</strong> </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Is it just me, or was it really irresponsible for Doc to not only leave Marty (a 17-year-old kid who was completely out of his element in the Old West) alone in the wilderness when he was <em>asleep,</em> but also to not even think it was important to help the kid get back to the future? Doc was so busy figuratively drowning his sorrows in the saloon that he wasn't even thinking of Marty possibly being stuck in 1885 (if they missed the train and someone discovered the DeLorean). Maybe Doc was fine with living his retirement years in the Old West, but Marty had a family and a girlfriend and a life in 1985.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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